


Part of The Turn Around

by s1ranksinner



Series: Cats and House Plants [3]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - College/University, Coping, Depression, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-03
Updated: 2016-04-03
Packaged: 2018-05-30 23:05:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6445906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/s1ranksinner/pseuds/s1ranksinner
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set after It's Hard. Kuroo struggles to relate to Oikawa sometimes, but he tries. He loves him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Part of The Turn Around

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, hey this is me projecting my unhealthy habits on Oikawa. Again, there's talk of depression, so be careful. No spoilers, you're good. There's a brief moment where self harm is kind of hinted at, but it does not occur.

Kuroo was bouncing his leg up and down on the ball of his foot, the weird crinkly _shiff_ of sports uniform pants a constant companion to the quick tempo he was keeping. For the third time during the ride back, Daichi held his hand against Kuroo’s thigh, pressing down.

“Kuroo, I haven’t slept a wink the whole trip. I’m exhausted. We’re all exhausted,” he took a deep breath, trying to ground himself, Kuroo knew, but he knew Daichi was in the right.

“I know,” he admitted. “I need to calm down.”

Daichi’s grip loosened, and Kuroo stretched his legs out to keep from resuming his anxious habit. He was going crazy, though. He’d texted Oikawa seven times over the past two days, and he hadn’t heard back a thing. It was the last game they’d played as a team for the year, this little trip he was on.

Oikawa had not been invited.

It had been a few weeks since Oikawa had seen a counselor. He did alright, at first. Kuroo tried to be encouraging and understanding, shit talking as much as was necessary. He even took Oikawa out on their favorite date of all time – people watching with fries and a milkshake. That had been so much fun.

He’d tried to be a presence in Oikawa’s life aside from The Flirty Boyfriend. Ever since he’d decided he wanted to stick with Tooru, he’d made a promise to himself to check up on him. It was a struggle, though, not feeling like a drill sergeant or a parent.

But he persisted, asking how Oikawa’s homework was going or if he was hungry or thirsty. Kuroo woke up early now to make breakfast and rouse Oikawa before they were both late. He also, as sneakily as possible, tried to make sure they were in bed at a decent hour every night. That last part was hard because it was easy to stay up talking and laughing, looking through the photos Kuroo snuck of classmates falling asleep or fashion faux paus on campus.

Somewhere between all that, Kuroo hadn’t found an easy way to keep an eye on Oikawa’s grades. Which, he supposed, was probably where he lost the award for trying because Oikawa had failed his first test of his life. And it had not been good.

Initially, he hadn’t been aware. Oikawa hadn’t mentioned it. He didn’t seem to mention his schoolwork at all. If Kuroo asked, he said it was done, and, maybe a little naively, Kuroo believed him 100%, no questions asked.

Yeah, but the test. It was just one test, sure, but then there were missing homework assignments. Kuroo noticed that the bag of snack food that Oikawa said he packed every day was actually the same bag. And it hadn’t been eaten. Ever.

Kuroo prided himself on being more observant, but it happened. Too little, too late unfortunately.

He had been suspicious, yes, when the coach started pulling Oikawa out of practice as regular setter, finding a convenient excuse in Oikawa’s knee, especially since the physical therapist for the team recommended a bit more caution from Oikawa than he cared to give.

Thirty minute breaks turned into an hour, and then Oikawa sat out a whole practice in his uniform, standing by the line, shouting help and commands. Some encouragement.

Kuroo didn’t ask because he figured it was a sore subject, much more so than Oikawa’s knee so he drew a bath, and they sat together until the water was uncomfortably cold and they were pruny.

The next practice Oikawa didn’t have on gym clothes. Or gym shoes. He didn’t even have his bag. Oikawa did not enjoy being babied, and he did not like attention drawn to his injuries or shortcomings. He was prideful, and Kuroo tried to give him what little space he could when he felt like he was already smothering him with care and questions every day.

When he asked Oikawa about it on the ride home – he drove that time, usually Oikawa did – Oikawa broke down at the stop light, and Kuroo had to pull over. Oikawa had a panic attack.

When they got home, Kuroo helped him strip down, taking off his own sweaty clothes and putting them actually in the laundry basket that he had dutifully emptied into the washer and then the dryer every time it was full, and he ran a hot shower. Oikawa didn’t really wash, he just hogged the water, but Kuroo knew it was because he was crying, and he didn’t want it to be apparent even though it was probably the most obvious thing he could have done. And cliché, but Kuroo didn’t bring that up. He didn’t want to hurt Oikawa’s feelings, and jokes like that weren’t funny anymore.

Oikawa spilled over ice cream. About the test. About the homework. About his other classes. He was going to fail one of them. He hadn’t been to the counselor for the last three sessions. Kuroo both admired Oikawa’s will and cursed it. That man was as stubborn as they came, and while he loved him for it, he knew it was reckless.

For the first time, Oikawa was underperforming. Kuroo had never really had that problem. He’d struggled through school, having to work twice as hard as Oikawa for mediocre results. The knowledge he’d gained had been hard won, but it stuck with him, unlike Oikawa who seemed to forget material as soon as the class was over.

It was catching up with him. His natural intelligence, the inability to say, “No,” – which was a whole different issue, Oikawa’s diet and fluctuating weight.

Naturally he was so talented, so good at everything. Kuroo had a hard time understanding how that all cancelled out. It was difficult to understand how to help Oikawa because Kuroo legitimately had never been there.

That was a week ago.

Kuroo finally sat down with Oikawa and talked to him about his health and needs. What Kuroo could do differently. Would sex help? They hadn’t had sex in a while. But no, Oikawa said he wasn’t feeling like it and that was why he hadn’t initiated anything. Better food? Not hungry. Are you thirsty? Yes, so Kuroo filled up his water bottle again and sat back down to resume the barrage of questions.

Oikawa had stopped him finally, just standing up, stripping his clothes as he walked to the bed, and then laying down. He didn’t even really look comfortable, but Kuroo knew it wasn’t necessarily comfort Oikawa was seeking out. He was tired and upset and somewhere deep down he knew Oikawa registered that he was uncomfortable and probably thought he deserved it.

Kuroo had thought about laying down with him. Dropping it, like it would be so easy to do, but he knew he couldn’t do that. Oikawa was hurting, and he had to take care of him. He’d folded the blanket Oikawa had used ( he’s always cold now.) Then he’d picked up the trail of clothes. Oikawa had tried to stop him, but Kuroo had assured him it was okay. It wasn’t really the right answer because Oikawa seemed more upset by Kuroo picking it up, but it happened regardless.

He’d crawled in bed beside him once he put his clothes away and started the washer, tugging the blankets out from under Oikawa and finally over him. Oikawa had pulled away, but Kuroo insisted, and they finished their talk.

Oikawa gave him the cold shoulder afterwards, and Kuroo had to convince himself that he was doing the right thing. He cared about Oikawa’s safety and happiness. His health. Not just short term, but long term. That’s what this was. Long term care.

Monday morning, bright and early, Kuroo asked Oikawa if he wanted to do it alone or together, and Oikawa asked him in a very small voice to not leave him alone, so Kuroo accompanied Oikawa to each and every single one of his classes, speaking with the professors and making a detailed plan for how to get Oikawa back on track. Oikawa was lucky because the teacher whose class he was failing was understanding of Oikawa’s situation and offered an extra credit assignment and partial credit on all homework assignments Oikawa hadn’t turned in.

They’d hit the library hard, leaving both of them exhausted as they both still attended practice, which was longer in preparation for the tournament. Oikawa had been determined, very ready to take on his work for his classes, even though it would take a lot. He’d finally told Kuroo the coach had banned him from playing until each of his professor’s gave the word that Oikawa was working hard.

It was made worse by Ushijima’s presence on the team. During the first two years they’d played together, Ushijima had pushed Oikawa to new heights. Their team kicked ass, quite frankly, especially with Tsukishima blocking with him. Daichi barely made the cut, but he fought tooth and nail to keep up. That spirit rang through the whole team, even if they weren’t regulars in favor of the upperclassmen, they always fought.

But then Oikawa started falling behind while Ushijima excelled.

Ushijima became a regular. He grew three more inches. Put on ten more pounds of muscle. The regular setter worked with him at all waking hours since Ushijima was getting a joke degree using school as a stepping stone to go pro.

Oikawa spent a lot of time off court unless the game was going very well. He worked out, and the physical therapy helped, although it was only putting off the inevitable surgery he would one day need. Kuroo had warned him about taking on too much, as he usually did, but he pushed on.

Oikawa wanted it all. He wanted fame and glory and a doctorate degree and to go pro and to never need surgery and to kiss Kuroo all day and fuck all night and still graduate on time.

It was impossible. And somewhere, Oikawa knew that, probably reminded himself of it every waking second. Every time he hit a wall.

Kuroo had learned a little bit of what it was like in Oikawa’s head, and it worried him more and more. Iwaizumi had mentioned a few passing comments Oikawa made when he was upset. He hadn’t elaborated. Kuroo never noticed them until they decided to take another step in their relationship and move in together earlier that semester. He’d laughed them off at first because who would believe Oikawa Tooru felt inadequate. Oikawa Tooru, who was overflowing with self-confidence to the point that it spewed out his ass almost as much as it spewed out of his mouth with his endless bragging.

But in time, it came. Quiet and scared.

“I hate myself.”

Kuroo had known it would come. It came when it was hard. He hated the thing that held Oikawa back, and he hated that he physically could not do any more than he already did.

That late night confession had come the night before Kuroo left. He wasn’t sure if Oikawa was trying to guilt him – he’d learned to be a lot more critical of those big brown eyes; they weren’t always honest. Still, disgustingly early Friday morning, Oikawa slept through Kuroo’s alarm. The team had to leave at 5 AM to get to the facility on time so Kuroo had set it for 4:15.

Kuroo went about his usual schedule with one change. He texted Iwaizumi.

_Oikawa has been really down the past few days. More like weeks. Fuck it. I’m a really shitty boyfriend, and I’m worried about him. You don’t have Friday classes, right? Leaving my key under the mat. Make sure he’s ok?_

He’d finished breakfast, covering it with foil and sticking it in the fridge, writing notes for Oikawa to find when he woke up so that maybe he wouldn’t be quite so angry at having to wake up. Iwaizumi’s response was cut and dry and cold.

_yeah I no. he told me u were leaving. already halfway there. ill make sure his ass gets to class. good luck._

Kuroo looked back over the texts to and from Iwaizumi since then. At some point, Iwaizumi’s responses became monosyllabic so Kuroo left him alone, trusting him to take care of Oikawa. It was a bit of a sore spot between them, Iwaizumi and Oikawa’s relationship. It wasn’t like Kuroo’s relationship with Kenma.

Kenma had pretty had to spell everything out for Kuroo. Without Kenma, he didn’t think he’d ever have figured out what the fuck “bisexual” really meant or that when he got sweaty around Oikawa it wasn’t because he sometimes forgot to take his jacket off when he walked inside.

Iwaizumi and Oikawa were different because they found out they were gay _together_. Like, together, together. Iwaizumi had moved on, not being able to give Oikawa what he wanted. Iwaizumi was aromantic, which Kuroo knew should make him feel better, but it really just made him feel guilty for still distrusting him.

He realized belatedly that he was bouncing his knee again when Daichi stood abruptly.

“Look, if you don’t want to talk, you could just say something instead of ignoring me,” he huffed, walking toward the front of the bus where Tsukishima was probably listening to whatever new playlist he’d concocted for the trip.

Kuroo felt guilty. He hadn’t meant to bother Daichi, and he definitely hadn’t meant to ignore him. Daichi was trying to be a good friend. Kuroo tried to rationalize it with too much testosterone and too little sleep, but he knew he’d have to apologize later.

 

* * *

 

 

When the bus stopped, Kuroo had checked both Iwaizumi and Oikawa’s snapchat for updates two more times, having finally given up and downloading a Sudoku app to pass the time. He barely listened to the coach’s congratulatory speech before he was bounding down the aisle of the bus, helping the driver get the bags out of the luggage compartment just so he could get to his faster.

It was cold and rainy, and he didn’t have a hood so he imagined that’s why he was running to the apartment where he knew Oikawa would be at six on a weekday. As much as everyone thought Tooru was a social creature, he was a homebody of the worst kind. The moment he walked in the door, it was glasses on, bangs clipped back, full pajamas.

He took the stairs two at a time, turning his phone on silent before he knocked lightly just in case Oikawa was asleep.

Iwaizumi answered the door. He seemed shorter, but Kuroo knew it was the five inches he had on him. He was also thicker, the sleeves of his shirt stretched over the muscles in his arms. Kuroo reminded himself that jealousy was an ugly thing as Iwaizumi moved so Kuroo could step in and shrug out of his wet windbreaker. He was freezing and hungry.

Kuroo motioned to the heap of blankets on the bed, and Iwaizumi nodded. He held up a finger signaling he wanted Kuroo to wait before he picked up one of Kuroo’s thick jackets from the arm of the couch, like he’d been waiting.

He handed it over and shrugged into his own, waiting until Kuroo was zipped up and ready to step out, closing the door behind them. It was awkward while Iwaizumi shuffled around him to sit on the top stair.

“Oikawa is… Not so good,” Iwaizumi began. Kuroo could feel his heartbeat all over. Hear it in his ears.

“Is he…?”

“Oh, yeah, yeah, he’s ok. He’s too much of a wimp to do anything,” Iwaizumi chuckled, but the humor was quickly lost. He looked sad. It wasn’t an expression Kuroo particularly enjoyed, even when he didn’t necessarily like him.

“He finished his work, I made sure of that. That extra credit assignment was a bitch,” he gruffed.

Kuroo nodded numbly.

“Yeah, it looked shitty.”

Iwaizumi nodded, playing with some loose skin on his finger.

“You okay?” Kuroo asked, shifting to try to find an angle where the wind wasn’t bitterly cold and failing.

“Oh, this?” Iwaizumi gestured, not really looking at Kuroo. “Yeah, I’m good. Cut it rock climbing on a trip. Kuroo, look, I think Oikawa needs a break.”

“Are you- are you breaking up with me on Oikawa’s behalf? Is that why he hasn’t been talking to me?” Kuroo was horrified. Was he that self-absorbed that he didn’t realize his boyfriend of almost three years was _that_ unhappy.

Iwaizumi barked out laughter. The weird, funny Hajime laugh. Short and coarse and warm because he never laughed unless he meant it.

“You need to chill, man. Nah, I mean after this semester, which you guys only have, like, what two more weeks? Finals included? You need to drop volleyball this summer and take a break. I mean, I guess _you_ don’t. You do whatever you want, but Oikawa has got to take a break. I’ll take him by force, if I have to. I’m not above that.”

Kuroo could believe it. Still. The team. Summer practice starts right after school ends. Missing that would mean automatically forfeiting his position as a regular. Same for Oikawa. That’s why they were busting their asses practicing non-stop, just to get some action on the court. To not go to summer practice… Honestly, he wasn’t even sure if Coach would keep them on the team.

“Kuroo, listen. Tetsurou. Do you mind if I call you Tetsurou? I feel like we should be on that level by now. Bro, listen. Oikawa is tired. He has to recharge. He’s fought and fought, and he has got to rest. That knee of his is acting up again – probably because he’s not taking care of it like he should. I know. You know. I know you’re pretty serious about volleyball, but I’m going to ask you a question, and I need you to give me an answer. Not just a quick ‘yes’ or ‘no.’ I need you to think about it, really and truly, and give me your answer.”

Kuroo waited, nodding dumbly.

“Are you going to go pro?”

The question hung in the air. Pro? Shit, he wished. Wouldn’t that be the dream? To be a pro volleyball star and travel all over the world playing with different teams. He wanted it. He did. He really did.

But he wasn’t good enough.

He knew that. Of course he knew that. If he thought he had a chance, he wouldn’t be stressing over Bernoulli’s equation or heat transfer. He’d study a few languages and business like Ushijima and devote his life to the sport. He’d never really thought about it before, but he guessed he’d made up his mind the moment he signed up for that college prep class.

He looked over at Iwaizum- Hajime, who had an expression on his face that Kuroo knew held something much deeper. That’s how it always was with Hajime. _Still waters run deep._

“No.”

The answer hung in the air for what felt like a long time, but the relief was palpable. Iwa- Hajime bent over, letting out a long breath, elbows on his knees, hands in his face.

“Thank God.”

Kuroo wasn’t really sure what was going on, but he felt like he’d passed some sort of strange test.

“I know you love Tooru,” Hajime said finally, clasping his hands in front of him, picking at the skin again. “He loves you, too.”

“So much,” he added softly. “But that’s why I had to ask you honestly without talking to Tooru to tip you off or anything what your plans for the future were. Not his. Not yours,” he gestured between Kuroo and the door (Oikawa,) “But you. Yours. Kuroo Tetsurou.”

“Why?” Kuroo was taken aback. This was all getting weird. His stomach growled.

“Because when you love people, you give things up. You give up a lot of stuff. Time, I mean years of your life, just like you two have already. Things. Goals. Money. Jobs, sometimes. There aren’t a lot of things you can be passionate about, you know? When you do something for seven plus years – like you and Oikawa with volleyball – it’s obvious that it’s a passion. Part of being an adult, though,” Hajime was quiet for a moment, very still, “Is understanding when to leave something as a passion and either let it become a life pursuit or a hobby. Passions are funny, though. They’re things that you love so much that you can’t bear to be without them. They’re a lot like people. They come with their own words and schedules and goals. They never really go away. You always want them, and you usually end up with them forever, one way or another.”

Kuroo had the very distinct feeling this was alluding to another matter entirely, but he was amazed at the depth, the insight he’d offered in a span of maybe, what, ten minutes. He listened intently, not pushing Hajime to hurry.

“The bad part about loving something that much, is that if you have to give it up for someone else, you might end up hating them. Or yourself. That’s why I asked you both what your plans were. You both said you didn’t think you would go pro.”

Iwaizumi fixed him with a very sharp look, and Kuroo found himself intimidated by those eyes. As deep as the man himself.

“This is important because Oikawa needs someone to be there for him. He needs someone whose life lines up with his right now. Ten, twenty years after today, it may not be a big deal if he’s working from home and the love of his life is in Maui helping build a hospital or something, but right now he needs _you_. You can’t leave him right now if you’re going to love him.”

Kuroo nodded, slotting his fingers together.

“I know.”

Iwaiz- shit. Hajime laughed, startling Kuroo. He almost fell off the step.

“What?!” Kuroo yelped.

“I just gave the most fucking eloquent speech of my life, and you come back at me with that shit? Weak, Tetsurou. Just weak, man.”

Kuroo laughed now, too, understanding the humor in the situation. He’d been keyed up for hours. No wonder he couldn’t think straight.

Ha. Straight.

“To be fair, I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say that much ever,” Kuroo teased.

“Valid,” Hajime agreed.

They laughed a bit more, joking back and forth like kids, making dumb jokes and catching up. After a particularly long laugh, Hajime sobered up, wiping the tears from his eyes. Kuroo registered somewhere in the back of his mind that Hajime had nice skin. It looked warm, like him. He had a dusting of freckles, probably from being out in the sun so much.

He could see why Oikawa had been drawn to him.

Some other time he’d have to buy him some sunscreen as a somewhat-joking-but-serious gift. Later, though. Some other time.

“You’re not so bad, Cat Boy. We need to get a drink together. Maybe some good beer or sake. It’s on me.”

Kuroo nodded, bracing himself against the wind again.

“That sounds like fun. Hey, how’d you do it, by the way?” Kuroo asked.

“What? How’d I do what?” Hajime looked nonplussed.

“Make Tooru do all that work? I can’t even make him give me more blankets.”

Hajime did more of his Hajime laugh, and Kuroo laughed, too, almost as much with him as at him.

“You just gotta press his nose to the grindstone, you know? Under all that stuff,” Hajime gestured in a strange churning motion that Kuroo snorted at but understood all too well what that meant. “Under all _that_ , he’s really great. Fucking brilliant. We’re lucky. If he was at full capacity, he’d probably take over the world.”

Hajime looked down, some color rising to his cheeks.

“That was awful. I didn’t mean it like that-“

Kuroo waved it off. “It’s ok. I think he would have laughed at that.”

Hajime nodded, still looking a little sad and guilty, but much better, much happier than when Kuroo first walked in, and he was tensing his jaw like he was going to start swinging.

“We should wake him up. I know it takes a lot out of him, but if he gets his sleep schedule messed up, that’s the end of it. It looked like you had him on a pretty good schedule,” Hajime noted, standing slowly, bracing one hand on his knee. Brushing off whatever dirt had gathered on the seat of his pants. “He even did the laundry.”

Kuroo looked up, trying to remember if he had seen anything out. “Oh, yeah. Nice. That’s awesome. I’m so happy for him.”

He really was. He felt like was going to cry. Hajime was nodding and standing, obviously happy for them, too. Kuroo really felt like a hug. He shuffled awkwardly, wanting the physical contact, but not sure how to initiate it or whether Hajime would be okay with it. In the end, he opened his arms wide, coming in for it anyways.

“Oh, shit, Tetsurou, you gonna hug me?” Hajime laughed, stepping into it, clapping him on the back.

Kuroo tried to keep some air in his lungs from the force of it, but he laughed and found enough to answer, “Fuck it. We’re both gay.”

Kuroo realized at this point that he had unlocked Hajime Laugh 2.0 when he felt the rumble of it in Hajime’s chest against his. God, he loved this guy. Maybe he was a really shitty judge of character after all.

Kuroo heard the tell-tale squeak of their apartment door open, and he stepped away from Hajime, still grinning too wide and jittery from the rush of emotions, to look up at him. He hoped he could convey everything he felt with his smile, because he was so in love. Oikawa smiled back, looking sleepy and tired, but thankfully well fed with color in his cheeks despite the purple under his eyes. He put his hands on his hips, looking at them both like a parent seeing past their children’s excuses.

“Just what do you two think you’re doing out here, rousing me from my beauty sleep?” He asked, voice raspy and hoarse and rough from sleep and that cold he still had. Kuroo was sad that he couldn’t shake it. He’d hoped that would be gone by now.

Hajime shot him a conspiratory look before moving his foot along the concrete of the landing.

“Oh, you know. Just talkin’ ‘bout you,” he said, obviously meaning it to tease, but the shear adoration and love in his voice let Kuroo know he wasn’t the only one that turned to putty in front of Tooru.

“Oh, really,” Oikawa rasped, leaning against the door frame, crossing his arms. He looked too tired to keep a cheerful front, and it pulled at Kuroo’s heart. “You making fun of me?”

His tone was raw, and he hadn’t hidden any of the hurt or betrayal, if he had intended to at all in the first place.

“No,” Kuroo murmured, stepping forward to wrap Oikawa in his jacket, blocking out the wind. He was never dressed warmly enough.

“We love you,” he said, kissing the top of Oikawa’s head.

**Author's Note:**

> One shot. I'll add more as I go. twitter: kettlewhistlss. tumblr: abbybabbles or artbyabbybabbles.


End file.
